


Ammor magnus doctor est

by LadyAsh47



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Ace the Bombay cat, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, Fluff, Harry Potter AU, Head Deputy Chloe, Mild Smut, Personal Assistant Beca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 16:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAsh47/pseuds/LadyAsh47
Summary: A conversation with her cat leaves Beca wondering, what exactly is true happiness.





	Ammor magnus doctor est

 Working in the Ministry of Magic was something akin to being at school. You wake up at six every morning, make sure to be present by seven, have lunch break at eleven, work tirelessly till five and get off by six.

 

 Hogwarts was pretty much the same. You had few friends, and those who you considered to be loved studying more than anything else. As much of a social life, you had then. That good of a social life, you’re having now.

 

 “Kid, do you never go out?”

 

 As proof, you are literally being Gremlin-like on a Friday night after coming home from work. You’re wearing an old, blue, faded pair of pajamas that was given as a gift years ago, lying on the couch with eyes gluing to your book of crime thriller and legs swinging casually over the head of your couch. You put a bookmark in between the pages, and turn to look at the source of voice who just spoke.

 

 The cat’s golden eyes sparkle in the night, gleaming simply from the night lamp you had turned. He’s looking at you with a judging glance, but you feel warm as you notice the tint of concern. You wonder, how your life would have turned out had you decided not to become an Animagus and take this little guy sitting here into your lonely home. Your ability to talk to cats remains the most special thing about you till this very day.

 

 You smile, and shake your head gently. Almost as if you are afraid he would run had you been too fierce.

 

 “I don’t like going out, you know that. Do you want to go out, Ace?”

 

 “It’s Friday” he said, with a tone that depicts an astonishment that goes completely over your head “you should be out there socializing. Isn’t that what youngsters are doing?”

 

 “I’m twenty three, Ace. There’s nothing young about this bitch.”

 

 You reply, a chuckle spilling out your lips as you stand and make way over to the kitchen. He groans, a particularly loud purr echoing through the thin walls of your apartment. You grab a cup of cold water from the freezer, and sip it with ease as the cat continues his rant.

 

 “I’m serious, Beca. I’ve never seen you hanging out with your colleagues, and I sure as hell have not seen you having fun for a really long time now. You smile, but I know you’re settling.”

 

 “So what you’re saying” you put down your glass, and walk back to the couch where Ace, your sweet, loving, little grey Bombay cat, resides “is I’m holding myself back?”

 

 A laugh splutters from your throat, and it rebounds on the walls this house complies. The cat doesn’t say anything else, as he climbs over and snuggles in the crook of your neck. The soft of his fur tickles, but it feels warm and affectionate. So you let him stay.

 

 “I just want you to be happy, Bec.”

 

 Happy, huh. You haven’t thought about the word for quite some time now.

 

 It’s vague, you think. The concept of being happy, not content, but genuinely happy. You suppose you had been happy before. Playing swings with the children at your orphanage, laughing over trivial crushes at school, smiling at funny things on television.

 

 Is that being happy?

 

 “I wish I can be too.”

 

 The discussion about happiness is stuck in your head throughout to Monday, when you are once again summoned to the office. Paperwork has piled up, as usual, remarkably, and you know you need to get these to your Head Deputy as soon as possible.

 

 So you put them in your bag, two cups of coffee steadied in your hands and you ride the elevator to where your boss is waiting.

 

 It has been a year since you started working here, and sometimes you forget that this was all magical for the normality in papers and cubicles overshadowing the rebel of goblins and usage of levitation charms. Your co-workers are nice, or some. You didn’t, and still don’t expect everyone to greet one another with opened arms and beaming smiles.

 

 After all, this was the real world. And there is hardly any friendship that isn’t fueled by competition for a higher position in the hierarchy.

 

 “Thank you! I was about to die for the lack of caffeine in me.”

 

 Well, maybe not all.

 

 Chloe Beale is, by far, the coolest Head Deputy you’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. You knew her back from Hogwarts, but she did not. You had watched her, from the moment she walked into the Great Hall whispering about how she was so excited for Potions to the moment when she rode backwards on the wooden boat over the Black Lake on your graduation day.

 

 She doesn’t know, no. She doesn’t know you used to admire her through book shelves. She doesn’t know you used to ache for her when she cried. She doesn’t know you used to be, you still are, in love with her.

 

 Maybe this is the happiness Ace was talking about. For the years absent of her presence, she was always there lingering in your mind. Every feelings you had had returned in a flood of emotions the minute you walked into her office for the first time. It seems like your happiness is tied to her.

 

 You were happy helping her pick up fallen books in crowded corridors. You were happy admiring the smile bloomed on her face as she held papers with the top grades to her chest. You’re happy fetching coffee for her every morning. You’re happy working alongside her throughout the night if she needs you to.

 

 To make it simple, you can say you’re happy when you’re with her.

 

 Yeah, that would sound less pathetic if she actually feels any of the same.

 

 “Good morning, Madam Beale. Here’s your coffee.”

 

 “How many times” your boss frowned “have I told you just call me Chloe. We’re friends, we’re even of the same age!”

 

 You smile at the whining tone. Indeed, you had become friends with the Head Deputy of Magical Law Enforcement during the past year working as her personal assistant.

 

 Chloe sends a glare at your obvious amusement, sulking as she sips her caramel latte. Her blue eyes then sparkle, for you had once again gotten her order correct. You don’t get why she still gets surprised. It wasn’t a complicated kind, and surely after getting it over a year, you'd ought to remember it.

 

 “Is working in the same cubicle for eight hours count as befriending another? If so, I’m pretty sure I’m friends with Bertha the Bed Hair out there in the Magical Incidents department .”

 

 Chloe chortles, but tries to conceal it as she chastises you for making fun of your co-worker. You give an unimpressed nod, as if she hadn’t been the one to start the nickname in the first place.

 

 “Tell you what, let me come over this weekend.”

 

 You frown, pen mid-scribbling paused at the sudden announcement. It’s near lunch break, and if she’s going to spew out statements that would give you continuous heart attacks, you’d say a fast trip to the nearest Subway is in urgent order.

 

 “Um, why? Do you need help with the paperwork about the Weasley case?”

 

 “Nope” she said, popping the ‘p’ as she arranges her stationary “Ron said he’s got that under control. Oh don’t look so surprised, he can be of helpful once in a while.”

 

 You shrug, not wanting to remind her about the time Ron Weasley misspelled a dark wizard’s name into books and literally the entire Ministry almost had their heads cut off by the people for reporting about someone with a ‘Dumbledore’ surname being thrown into Azkaban. It turned out to be Dumblewald, you had quite a good laugh nonetheless.

 

 “I want to befriend you, for real. Let me take you out this weekend. We can go grab a meal and get to know each other better.”

 

 If you were smart, you’d notice the blushing that’s glowing all over her cheeks. But you aren’t, not in this category anyway, so it completely flies off your radar. Instead, you're left wondering had your ‘friend’ meant it in the one way you wanted or the way you expected.

 

 Either way, you agree. And it is totally worth it seeing the megawatt smile that spreads all the way from her eyes to her ears.

 

 You tell Ace when you get home, that there’s going to be a guest coming here on the weekend as you make yourself a nice omelette with the noodles pot boiling hot right besides you. He screams, as loudly as a cat can, hops excitedly over the couch and grabs painfully at your hair.

 

 “Did you finally make a friend?! I’m so happy for you kiddo! Who is it?! Is it a girl, I bet it’s a girl. You’re as gay as that co-worker Monty of yours. Is it a girl?!”

 

 “Yes it’s a girl- ouch!” you try to untangle the claws gently, though feeling very up to throwing the animal out of the window right now “get off! It’s just Chloe!”

 

 He lets go at once much to your surprise, and you can’t seem to comprehend this confused, astonished, surprised expression he has going on. You watch him curiously, hands taking out the omelette onto a plate and going over to the noodles pot when he finally speaks again.

 

 “Chloe? As in, Chloe Beale?”

 

 “Unless we know anyone else named Chloe, yes. Chloe Anne Beale, Head Deputy of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic. Why are you taken aback by this? I thought you said you’re happy for me.”

 

 “I am, I am!” he says hurriedly “I’m just surprised. I know about your…”

 

 “My feelings for her, you mean?”

 

 You quirk in amusement, a corner of lips curling up at the squirming cat. He never likes romantic things, much less talking about 'your' romantic things.

 

 But he is supportive.

 

 There were times when you would cry over the unrequited love you had been sporting for years, and he's oblivious as to what he should do every time. His awkwardness makes you laugh, and it works again now as you enjoy your bowl of ramen.

 

 “She’s taking me out to eat first. Maybe we’ll hang out or something before coming back here. I promised I’ll make her my spaghetti and meatballs.”

 

 You talk Ace throughout the course of the planned hangout a day before it happens, which coincidentally is another Friday.

 

 He gives a hum, contented as he sips on his milk. It’s about to turn ten o’clock at night soon, and you feel like tonight should be one of those nights where you should get a lot of sleep.

 

 So you turn in early, Ace on his tiny bed placed near your nightstand. He peers his blue eyes over to where you lay, twinkling in curiosity “Are you sure she didn’t say this was a date? I mean, it sounds like one.”

 

 You sigh, turning to lie on your side and look where he resides.

 

 The possibility hasn’t escaped you. On the contrary, it has been running through the back of your head every moment that you were awake for the past five days. But hope is a dangerous thing, you learned. And you dare not, to dream of such an ethereal to materialize. Chloe herself is a surreal phenomenon that you always clutch dearly, and maybe that’s enough.

 

 “No, Ace. I’m sure it isn’t.”

 

 You wake up quite early on Saturday morning, heart flutters in shivers and excitement. You pull out your best outfit, a white blouse with a dark blue vest and black ripped jeans.

 

 Ace points out that you still dress yourself like a teenager at the age of twenty three at around the time when you tie up your pair of Converse. And you agree as you look in the mirror, internally panic at the prospect that you would throw Chloe off with your fashion sense. Even if this is clearly not a date.

 

 Turns out, you worried over nothing. The Head Deputy herself is dressed in a short black skirt with a blue button-up that really makes her auburn hair stand out. On her feet is a pair of black heels, successful in giving her a four-inch advantage over you. She teases, that she would still be taller without the stills. And you blush brightly, giving her a faux annoyed glare. Though you must say, the height joke is totally worth the cackle she belches not a second later.

 

 Your ‘date’ is amazing, to put it mildly.

 

 The food you have at the café she took you to is terrific, you be sure to bookmark and visit there more often. Chloe takes you to her favorite records store afterwards, where you both geek over the newest album released by your own favorite, Queen B. You spend like three hours in that shop, and proceed to do whatever available in the mall for the next few until it approaches dinner time.

 

 So you take her home, here she is residing lackadaisically on your couch, as you set up plates and forks in the kitchen.

 

 She can see you directly from where she sits, so you try to look like a professional as best as you can. You can imagine the look of amusement and what Ace would say had he been home, but he said he’d rather give you some alone time with her (“No distraction, for you two can focus on one another.” he said).

 

 She loves your spaghetti and meatballs, much to your relief. “Even my mom’s isn't as good as yours! What’s your secret?” she asks, her eyes gleaming brightly at the prospect of learning new things. She looks not a day older than the first time you saw her aboarding the Hogwarts Express, and it takes you all the mental strength to keep yourself from squealing and grinning like an idiot.

 

 You smile mysteriously, saying “A magician never gives away their secret.” with a flirty wink just for the sake of it. Your smile brightens as she laughs loudly, the sound acts like a breathe of fresh air in this small, one-person apartment of yours. You can tell she enjoys the meal as much as she says she does, and you can’t help yourself but to suggest watching a movie together as it is still early. Plus, it’s a Sunday tomorrow.

 

 She nods, and pulls out the DVD of  ** _Beauty And The Beast: Live Action_** hidden in your stacks of CDs by the TV. You take the CD in approval and go to put it in the player. Chloe disappears into the kitchen to make popcorn, to which you had insisted you would do since this was your home but failed to change her mind. You wait patiently, sitting in the center of the couch and shifting the wine glasses (she brought the wine over when she picked you up in the morning, you only provide the glasses) so that they won’t fall off accidentally just in case.

 

 Chloe returns soon enough with a big bowl of instant popcorn, and you both munch happily on the sweet butter heaven as the lyrics ' _Little town, it’s a quiet village'_  rang through the walls of your home. It isn’t till the part where Gaston fires Beast in the chest that you feel a sudden change in the atmosphere.

 

 It's thicker, and suspenseful. You chalk it as a side effect from the dramatic struggle occurring on your TV screen, and keep your eyes glued on Belle rushing over to Beast, her eyes tearing up at the prospect of losing the love of her life. The movie’s about to end soon, you realize as the note of  ** _Tales As Old As Times_** echoed beautifully in Emma Thompson’s glorious singing.

 

 The sudden change makes itself known again, and this time you can’t ignore it. For there is a touch that leaves goosebumps on your hand, the hand that you were sticking into the popcorn bowl. You turn your head, and find yourself mesmerized by the close proximity between your and Chloe's ocean blue eyes. Her nose is inching close to yours, and you can’t stop staring at her lips for they are opened in the smallest of gasp, her breath coming out softly that tickles your own.

 

 You don’t know who leans in first, and you do not care.

 

 The first touch is simple, it is merely a chaste touch that sends tingles. The second touch is more powerful, it lingers longer and sends electricity down your spine. The third, the only one that matters if you were to say, is awakening. You pour all the years of unrequited love into the kiss, adding pressure as you push yourself against her lips. Your ears pick up on the sound of her sigh and the heavy pounding of your heart.

 

 At the first touch of tongues, you shiver.

 

 And it’s you who lets out a sigh that makes her lips quirk up in a smile. Feeling bold, you raise a hand to caress her cheek, so warm and soft that it makes you want to cry. You feel her hand crawling up from your chest to the back of your neck, and your skin burns everywhere she touches. She pulls you closer, and clashes of lips begin to echo even louder and more out-of-breath. In pure ecstasy, you unconsciously pull her even closer and somehow, she ends up straddling your lap.

 

 Her shirt rides up lightly, and your hand twitches as it makes its first contact with skin. She smiles against your lips again, so you take it as a sign of approval for you to caress the small of her back under her shirt. Indeed she hums, a soft moan echoes loudly in your ears and makes your brain go haywire. She has your face cupped in her hands, but moves her arms to circling around your neck again when you feel it. The smallest grind of her hips onto your pelvis, and you don’t even know whose moan it was that spurred out so loudly. But you don’t really care.

 

 You pull her hips down with your hands, and arch up in ways that it would create friction. The moan she lets out sends you into another round of ecstasy, and you are unable to control your thirst to touch her. You creep up the skin under her shirt, hand almost recoiling when you touch the material of lace. You can feel her hand slipping into your shirt from down your collar, and the cold sensation of her fingers on your collarbone makes you gasp loudly. Her tongue peaks out of its master’s talented mouth and travels all over yours, exploring everywhere it can when it is allowed to.

 

 Wanting to take back control, you pull out of the kiss and proceed to ravish the glistening skin that is her untouched neck. The moment your teeth graze her jawline, you can feel her shiver in your arms. So you kiss it, lightly at first but then adding pressure along the way down. The grip she has in your hair tightens once you find her pulse points, sucking and nibbling and biting, anything to hear her make more of those heavenly sounds. You bite down on her collarbone, and the most beautiful moan spurs from her mouth, indicating pleasure and so much euphoria that you yourself know you can’t take this anymore.

 

 So you pull back, and you watch.

 

 The girl you had loved for the past ten years is sitting in your lap, her lips swollen and her chest heaving heavily. Her arms are circled around your neck, and her thighs are gripping tightly around yours. Her eyes are boring straight into you, almost like she’s staring into the deepest of your soul. The amount of endearment in those pale blues are suffocating you, and you kiss her again just so you can make yourself breath.

 

 It didn’t work. The senses of her smell, her touch and her look are still overwhelming you, shaking you to the core. Fueled, you grab her by her thighs and abruptly stand up. Your lips never separate, so you can feel the surprise squeak she emits as you lead both bodies into the bedroom. She splays on your bed, your childhood bed, the minute you lay her down. And it’s like you were thirteen all over again, fantasizing having gorgeous, beautiful women ready at your demand.

 

 “Gosh how are you this beautiful.” you ask breathlessly, placing your own body down on hers. The two fit like missing pieces of a puzzle, almost as if she completes you. She grins lazily up at you, her bright red hair sprawled over your pillow and her hands toying with the hem of your blouse. Your vest and her jacket had been hung on the hanger the minute you walked in the door, so there is only one layer of clothing left for both of you. Your breath hitches as she pushes her hand up higher, cradling your bra-covered breast by the time you realize what was going on.

 

 “I think, you’re the beautiful one here.”

 

 You chuckle at the retort, half-heartedly for you are still distracted by the hands that are exploring the region of your chest. She bites her lips, the face she makes whenever she’s lost in thoughts. You had seen it a lot when you both work overnight at the Ministry office, and it drives you crazy every time.

 

 A devious grin in place, you lean down closer and trap her hand between your bodies. You tilt slightly to advance on her ear lobe, biting and heaving out warm breaths that you know would make her squirm.

 

 It’s her turn to breath heavily as your own hands venture into the fabric of her button-up, and she moans when you squeeze. Gosh it's all so surreal, and this sound is even more beautiful than the ones she let out on your living room couch. So you do it again and again, kneading and massaging with both hands as your lips start its ravish against her neck once more. You pinch the right nipple lightly, suck harshly on her collarbone and let out a moan of your own when her hips buckle up to meet yours.

 

 Suddenly, she sits up from your bed, ending the exploration of bodies as you sit quietly in her lap. Her pale oceanic eyes bore straight into your midnight navy, and for a minute there you’re afraid of her thinking this whole thing was a mistake and she never wants to see you again.

 

 That’s worse in comparison to losing your job at the Ministry, and abruptly you realize how inappropriate this 'hangout' had been. But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she snaps out from whatever thought she was having, wraps her arms around you and pulls you down the bed once more for a passionate kiss, tongues and teeth involved.

 

 “I really like you” she breathes with difficulty in between “but I think it’s too soon. It’s only our first date.”

 

You pause against her lips, but you don’t pull away. And neither does she. You still, the only sound present is the tick tock of your clock and huffs of breaths melting in one.

 

 In a moment of truth, you speak breathlessly. What comes out, to you, sounds either like a soundless grunt or an incoherent mumble.

 

 “I don’t think I knew this was a date.”

 

 Silence, and then there is a vibration rumbling from her thighs, where your hands are at, to her lips. You pull away in confusion, but finds yourself smiling at the mirth and happiness in her eyes. She kisses you again, her smile never disappears as she mumbles something that hopefully makes its way into your ear.

 

 Oh right, “It’s a date if I say so. Now kiss me.”

 

 She’s the boss, so all you can do is comply. And that’s what you do for the better part of tonight, mostly at every minute of your second date tomorrow and the first thing you do the moment you step into her office on Monday morning. It takes up until five in the afternoon, when you have her pinned on your desk for you to realize that she just asked you to be her girlfriend.

 

 You smile dumbly, pull her in for another fierce lip lock (the door fully closed and sealed, so no worries) and whisper sultrily into her neck, where you know is her weakest point, that you would love to. Takes around ten years for you to be with the girl you love, but it’s all worth it you suppose. Ace was right about you settling, because being with her, you realize, is when you are truly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all feedbacks if you have any for me :)
> 
> The title means 'Love is a great teacher' in Latin!


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